


The Rick Files: Random Picks

by Rickdicted



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:05:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickdicted/pseuds/Rickdicted
Summary: You have to satisfy your PE credit before you can graduate.  You thought this would be an easy option...





	1. Right Path, Wrong Time, Part 1

 

It was the end of my first week and I’d had my worst day yet.  Why I took this sales job, I had no idea.  I didn’t have a clue about shoes.  My shoe preference was flip flops.

Throughout the day, my phone buzzed with texts from Rick.

_”Hey. What r u doin?”_

_“Working.  What else?”_

_“I have a huge boner with your name on it.”_

_“Cut it out.  I’m at work.”_

_“Think I need to come in and get this bad boy measured.”_

_“Don’t you dare…”_

I had a mental image of him strolling into the store and laying his huge cock out on one of the old fashioned Brannock foot measurement devices, and I burst out laughing.  Customers and co-workers looked over at me.

Two more hours crawl slowly by.  I thought this day would never end.  The customers kept coming in.  School was starting in a few weeks and it was as if the store had announced a special “Mother/Daughter Back to School” sale.  Every client coming in was a duo or trio of a mom with 1 or 2 daughters.  Everyone wanted to try on at least three things in two different sizes.  Nobody bought anything.  I could barely keep up.  I had to skip my lunch, it was that busy.  Soon a huge stack of shoe boxes was piling up on the back counter, waiting to be restocked.

My phone buzzed again.

_“How’s the world of high fashion foot wear?”_

_“It’s shit.  This job sux.  I hate my life.”_

The phone buzzed.  I ignored him and tried to restock as many rejected shoes as I could before another customer came in.  My phone continued to buzz from time to time but I was too busy to look at it.  Two more hours pass.  Only one more hour to go, then my shift would be done.

_“How’s it goin’?  Ready to quit yet?”_

_“Fuck off.  I’m busy.  Home after 5.”_

_“PS: I hate my job.  Sorry I told you to fuck off.”_  Because I didn’t mean it, really.  I know he was just trying to cheer me up.

Finally, my shift ended.  I stayed long enough to put away the remaining rejected shoes from the customers I’d waited on.  The store was still pretty busy, with three more hours to go before it closed.  I grabbed my purse and got out the door before they asked me to stay an extra hour and help to restock everybody else’s as well.  I checked my phone as I walked to my car.  No more texts.  Huh….  I called him.  No answer.   _Really?_

I got home to my small apartment, expecting to find him sitting on my couch, watching tv.  Instead, the place was empty and dark.  Well, fuck.   _Really?!_  He’d texted me all goddamned day…  Was this because I’d told him to fuck off?

Slightly pissed off, I went into my bedroom and undressed.  I took a long, hot shower, then changed into a pair of baggy sweatpants, an old soft t-shirt, and my favorite flip flops, then went to the kitchen to nuke a TV dinner.  I ate it while watching the last of the 6 o'clock news, then dumped the plastic container in the trash and rinsed my fork off in the sink.  That’s when I saw the 2-portal chip on the counter, resting on top of a piece of paper with a note written in Rick’s usual, barely legible scrawl.

”Babe, push this once when you get home.  Don’t wear your damn flip flops.  R.”

Huh.  I stood there, inspecting the chip.  I’d only seen one once before.  Same situation: sitting on a note in the kitchen, waiting for me to find it the first thing in the morning when I came out from my bedroom, sleepy and yawning, and still wearing the over-sized t-shirt that I had slept in.  I hadn’t had any coffee yet, and wasn’t exactly awake. I didn’t read the note before I picked up the chip, and accidentally pressed it while I was standing there looking at it.

And suddenly found myself standing in a crowded alien nightclub, still with a bad case of bed head hair, barefoot, and my tits clearly visible through my white shirt.  And, if I bent over just slightly, it was obvious to anyone who glanced in my direction that I wasn’t wearing any panties, either.  I was mortified.  Rick was torn between being annoyed with me and laughing at me.

Actually, I don’t think he was very torn because he was mostly laughing.  And he refused to leave before he finished his drink.

Eventually, he let me put on his lab coat.  Eventually.  Then we’d….  Well, suffice it to say that things ended on an “up” note.

I stood there, remembering all that, while looking at the chip.  It was the size of a silver dollar, deep gold in color with a stylized “R” on one side and an engraved image of The Citadel on the other.  I’d never been to The Citadel, but Rick had told me that that’s what it was, so….

Maybe I was meeting him at a bar or a club again.  I went back to my bedroom and traded my sweatpants for a pair of jeans, a more decent top, and kicked off my flip flops in favor of comfortable low-heeled boots.  Got back to the kitchen and picked up the chip, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and pressed it.

With a sizzling pop, I was standing in a dimly lit clearing that was bordered by tall, dark trees.  The ground was soft, almost spongy beneath my feet.  There were little hillocks here and there, covered with soft moss.  After the harsh fluorescent lights of my kitchen it took my eyes a few moments to adjust.  Off to the west the sun was setting.  The air was warmer here, but not as humid.  It was heady with the sweet scent of flowers.  A breeze blew overhead, sounding like the soft chorus of a string quartet.  The music swelled in volume as the breeze approached, then trailed off as the breeze passed by.  Quiet, single-toned musical notes followed its course; they were in perfect harmony with the breeze quartet.  They sounded like the strings of a harp, each an individual note, softly plucked, then echoing away into silence.

I looked up to the source of the music and gasped with delight.  Clusters of huge, cream-colored trumpet-shaped flowers were hanging head-down from vines growing high above in the trees.  I watched as each flower became suffused with a softly colored light as the breeze moved it, producing the note.  Each flower glowed in a different color than its neighbor and had a different tone.  Tiny sparkles of color drifted down like fairy dust from the heavy-headed stamens protruding from the center of each flower.  The sparkles and the light in the flower gradually faded along with the sound, until another breeze came along and gently moved the bloom again.  The flowers’ musical tones and colors changed each time.  I stood there listening to the beautiful sounds.  Fascinated, I cranked my neck back so I could take in the amazing technicolor show above me that accompanied the music.

It was like Mother Nature’s version of a Pink Floyd Laser Light Show.  After my crappy day at work, this place was more soothing than a glass of wine and a hot bath.  The stress of my day and my irritation with Rick drained away and I felt immediately at peace.  I wanted to lie down against one of those soft little mossy hillocks and stare up above me.  I could have laid there for hours.

It was then that I realized that one or two petals from each flower had drifted to the ground and continued to glow with their soft colors.  They almost appeared to be deliberately laid out in a path along a trail which led out of the clearing and deeper into the woods.  The petals lay only along this trail, none had fallen randomly anywhere else.  When I looked at them, they began to glow more brightly, then dimmed again.  They did this in sequence, over and over, leading off into the distance.

The message was obvious: “Come this way…”

I walked along this pretty path of petals.  If I happened to step on one, it would emit the same single-note tone that it had rung when it was part of the flower, and its light would slowly darken to black as the tone faded away.  The path gently curved back and forth, then gradually began sloping uphill.  I looked back the way I had come and realized that the ground behind me was only partially lit with the few petals that remained untrampled.  And I couldn’t even see the clearing anymore.  The sun had set and it had rapidly grown dark, and also colder.  I had just been too distracted to notice.  I wish Rick had told me to bring a jacket.

Off in the distance to my left a deep howl called out.  It sounded very much like a wolf but I couldn’t be sure what it was, since I clearly wasn’t on Earth anymore, _Toto_ …. I smiled grimly to myself.   To my right, somewhat closer to me, an answering howl sent shivers of fear down my spine.

Oh, my Holy Fucking Jesus.  Where in the fuck has he sent me?  Trying to stay calm, I increased my pace to a fast walk, taking care not to step on the petals anymore.  No use calling more attention to myself than I already had, and I might need the path of light to direct me back the way I had come.  A third howl sounded out behind me, still some distance away, but definitely closer than the other two.  I took a chance to look back over my shoulder and realized that the path of petals had disappeared and the woods were completely dark.  Ahead of me the petals were lying farther and farther apart, their light definitely dimmer than when I’d first started on this fucked up adventure.  I didn’t have a flashlight, or even my cell phone.

The howls echoed eerily around me again, closer.

Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  What the bloody fuck?!  I started to run, pelting uphill along the path.  It seemed to go on forever and after several minutes I had to stop and lean over to catch my breath as I clutched at a painful stitch that dug into my side.  I’d definitely let myself get out of shape, and the soft ground was hard to run on, not to mention being uphill.  I could feel hotspots on my feet where blisters were starting to form—these boots were not made for running, that’s for sure.  (Despite my growing fear, right then Nancy Sinatra popped up in my head, right on cue…)

My mouth was dry with fright and all the running.  I licked my lips, trying to generate some spit.  Over my panting gasps for air I heard another howl off to my left, definitely closer.  Choking back a sob of fear, I took off running again, silently grateful that, whatever Rick had gotten me into, at least the bastard had told me not to wear my flip flops…

_tbc_

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Right Path, Wrong Time, Part 2

My breath was coming in wheezing gasps and I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was rapidly running out of steam.  I thought an ‘adrenaline rush’ was supposed to sustain you until you didn’t need it anymore.

The path was rapidly becoming rocky and I was stumbling, barely catching myself from falling.  Ultimately I tripped and went down hard, wincing as a knee landed directly on a sharp rock.  The howls were closer on all sides, but now the one behind me on the path was accompanied by the sound of clawed paws running along the rocky dirt.  Before I knew it I was going to feel the hot breath of this animal on the back of my neck right before its sharp teeth sank into my skin.

Taking a deep breath and pulling my legs underneath me, I made one last ditch effort to escape.  I planted my hands on the ground and shoved myself up onto my feet then lurched forward again.  A howl sounded directly behind me and I turned my head back to look at it — 

And collided with a tall body standing directly in my path.  I bounced off it, falling to the ground just as I heard the sounds of a laser pistol shooting over my head.  The animal disintegrated with a whining cry in a flash of ozone and burning fur.

A hand reached down, the long fingers hooking into one of my armpits, and jerked me up to my feet.

”Wh-where the _fuck_  have you been?!”

I babbled incoherently but he didn’t wait for my answer.  He wrapped one long arm around me, pulling me against his chest as he turned us to the left side of the path.  He fired his pistol into the woods, directly at a pair of glowing red eyes.  There was a howling growl that was cut off by the blast of the pistol.  I watched the bright red light flash amongst the trees before Rick whipped us around and he fired off to the right side of the path.  The animal was at the edge of the woods and this time I felt the heat as well as smelled the sickening odor of burning fur and flesh as the animal was committed to oblivion right before my eyes.

The woods were echoing with the sounds of howls, accompanied by yips and growls, as more animals quickly surrounded us.

”Your chip!” He shouted down at me.

”What?”  My brain had stopped functioning.

”Your _chip,_  the fucking two portal chip I gave you, goddamit! _Use it!”_ He continued firing into the woods all around us.

My chip...my _chip!_   Frantically I shoved my hand down into the pocket of my jeans where I’d casually placed it after I’d arrived in the clearing.  That felt like hours ago.

My fingers clutched around it and I pulled it out, praying that I wouldn’t drop it in my haste.  Rick’s arm tightened around my torso, pulling me right against his body, and he turned, firing off one more shot before I pressed the chip.

_tbc_


	3. Right Path, Wrong Time, Part 3 and Conclusion

The portal opened up in the middle of my kitchen, right where I was standing when I pressed the chip before.  Rick had just fired his pistol before we portalled off the planet, and he immediately pointed it up in the air over his head to avoid discharging again.

His arm relaxed from its death grip around my chest and my knees gave out.  I fell against the kitchen counter and grabbed the edge to steady myself before I turned around to face Rick.

”YOU GODDAMN FUCKING ASSHOLE!  You almost got me _killed!”_   I began hitting him in the chest, my rage and fright overcoming my good sense.

Rick put his pistol on the counter and grabbed my wrists, pulling me into his chest.  “Goddamnit, calm the f-f-fuck down.  You — You’re not dead, ok?  Jesus _Christ_ , wh-wh-where were you going?  Wh-why did you leave the fucking clearing?”

“I was following the p-p-petals....”. I began to blubber, tears forming in my eyes and threatening to run down my cheeks.

”What _‘petals’,_ what the fuck are you talking about?”  He was practically shaking me to get an answer out of me.

Then I really did begin to cry and my knees gave out again.  I was shaking all over and it wasn’t from Rick, it was the after-effects of all the adrenaline that was still coursing through my veins.  Rick half dragged half walked me over to the couch and I collapsed down onto it with him.  He pulled out his flask and unscrewed the cap, then handed to me.  I was shaking so badly that it rattled against my teeth when I brought it to my mouth, and he had to hold it for me while I drank.  He made me take several swallows before he finished off the rest.  A few long minutes passed before I could collect my wits and calm down enough to talk.

“I got to that clearing and there were these petals from the flowers, they led out of the clearing and along that path.  I thought _you_ had done that, and I was supposed to follow it.  I thought you were leading me someplace n-n-nice and ro-ro-romantic.”  I started to cry again.

“Christ.  I-I-I waited there for you for 2 hours, then I came back here, looking for you.  What t-t-time did you get there?  You said you were off at 5.  You’re not supposed to be on that planet after the sun — after sunset.”

”Well why the fuck send me there without telling me that?  Goddamnit , I almost got eaten by wolves...”  I took a few deep breaths.  “I didn’t get out of the store until after 5:30, then I came home.  When I saw that you weren’t here I thought you’d blown me off so I got pissed and took a shower, ate, watched some tv...Then I found the chip on the counter.  I thought you were sending me to another alien bar or nightclub, so I changed...I think it was, I don’t know, like, 7:15 or something when I left...”

Rick was looking at me while I talked.  The look on his face changed from concern to irritation to exasperation.  When I finished he got up and went into the kitchen and rooted through my modest liquor stash, then he came back with two small glasses and a bottle of vodka.  He poured us each a glass — a full one for him, half full for me.

”So, it sounds like we-we just missed each other, then.  You left here just as I arrived and vice — the other way around.”

”What was that place?  I mean, if it wasn’t you, then who left the petals?  And those wolf-things.  What were they?”

”Nobody knows exactly.  There’s a theory that the flowering vines have some sort of symbio-  partnership w-w-with the wolves.  The wolves protect the flowers an-and vines from damage by other animals in the woods, and in return if any alien visitor stays after sunset, hangs out too long, the flowers send them off into the woods to be eaten by the wolves.  Those petals you saw must be how they do it.”

He went on.  “Th-Th-There’s a waterfall that f-f-faces West, drops off a sort of archway, and when the sun’s going down — setting, the light shines through the water.  Fucking amazing.  Sunset’s the best time to be there.  The evening breezes move through and everything gets stirred up.  You-you just have to be sure and get the fuck out as soon as the sun is gone.  Once I was there with a — I was there and a storm came in.  Those f-flowers practically burst into flame, they were lighting up so much.  But we had to get out because it got so dark that the wolves thought it was after sunset.”

What a fucked up place to send me to by myself!  Especially with such a narrow window of allowable visiting time left for me.  And I told him so.  He put his arm around me and held me close.  It was probably the closest I was going to get to an apology.

“You know, Rick, the next time you want to give me flowers, just have a florist send them.”

”Okay, babe.”  He leaned down and gave me a deep kiss, snaking his hand under my blouse and sliding up to my breast.

 

_TTFN!!!_


	4. Right Path, Wrong Time  Coda:  Flower Child

"I want to go back."

He grunted from his position behind me, wrapped his arm more tightly around my stomach, but said nothing.  We were lying in bed together and drifting off to sleep.  It had been a month since that near disastrous trip to the Flower Planet, as I called it.

I stopped seeing him for about a week afterwards.  I almost died, and all because of him.  Then he showed up out of nowhere on the trail, firing that laser pistol at those wolves, grabbing me up off the ground and hauling my ass out of there.  The whole thing had scared the shit out of me.

HE scared me.

So, I told him I couldn't do it any more.  Couldn't be with him.

But, I had to admit to myself that he was like a necessary drug to me, something I needed to stay alive.  To feel alive.  Because otherwise there just wasn't anything else about my life that really mattered.  Mine was just a dull, matterless life.  Without Rick.

Finally, one night feeling lonely sad, I sent him a text.  One of those tentative, pathetic kinds of texts: "Hey, what're you up to?" ( _Please, oh, please, answer.  Please don't be gone from my life.)_   Desperately hoping for a reply.  Not knowing what I'd do with myself if I didn't get one....

He didn't answer.  Instead, he immediately portalled into my apartment.  I was curled up in a corner of my couch, still holding my phone, and gaped up at him in surprise.  He took two long strides across the living room and hauled me up into his arms, kissing me hard.  Then he carried me back to my bedroom and fucked me silly.  He made me cum over and over again until I cried, grateful to have him back in my life.

Afterwards he held me in his arms, kissing me, softly nuzzling my neck the way he knew I liked.  His kisses were warm and feather-light.  He called me his favorite pet names, the ones that set my heart racing.  Called me his baby girl, his sweet, sweet baby girl, and that I would always be his princess.  He was running those elegant, long fingers through my hair, softly pulling his fingertips across my scalp, setting my skin tingling.  He worshipped my body, caressing and touching me.  It went on and on all night and I soaked it in.

I realized that this was his way of telling me that he had missed me.  That he loved me.  I knew then that I loved him, too.

Since then, the Flower Planet had hung in the back of my mind.  A tantalizing wonderland that I never got to really see, fully enjoy with him.  I couldn't stop thinking about it.  I wanted to go back, see it properly, in his eyes, with him beside me.

Even so, we’d never mentioned the Flower Planet again.  Until tonight. 

He sighed and tucked my head under his chin.  I felt his lips softly kiss me, a lingering kiss, his warm breath blowing my hair.

"You, uh, you gotta do exactly what I say.  Stay in the fucking clearing."  His deep voice rumbled into my back and I nodded my head eagerly in agreement.

"Of course.  Yes."

"And you're not going without - I'm giving you a pistol."

At this I stilled.  I'd never fired a regular gun before, much less some sci-fi laser pistol of his.

"We'll go do some target practice.  Shoot some tomorrow.  Then we'll see.  I'll see."

I held my breath, excited.

He shifted and rolled partially on top of me, taking me in his arms.  I looked up at him.  He was searching my eyes carefully, then chuckled.

"You're just a regular little flower child, aren't you?   _My_ Flower Child."  He bent down and kissed me, nudging my thighs apart with one knee before settling himself between my legs.

_tbc_


	6. Coach Sanchez — Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to satisfy your PE credit before you can graduate. You thought this would be an easy option...

It was in the mid-90s when I went back to college to finish my degree, having taken the "long route" path through life to get there.  A few years working at different fast food restaurants, worked my way up through management at a retail clothing store at the mall...  Then I tried being the assistant to a family photographer -- who turned out to be less than family oriented in his handling of his employees...

"No" apparently didn't mean "no" to him; and the whole "Me Too" movement wouldn't happen for another 20 years. 

Finally, even I had to agree with my patient and long-suffering parents and admit that I was getting to Nowheresville fast.  So, I went back to school, taking mostly night classes wherever possible while working full time during the day, until I was down to the final semester, getting ready to register for those last few courses and then I'd be done.  That's when my advisor told me that I wouldn't graduate without completing the 2 hour physical education requirement.

Christ.  28 years old and I still had to do Phys Ed?!  It was so fucking stupid.  I scanned the listing for the less-strenuous courses -- archery? bowling?  Nothing held any appeal for me whatsoever.  I still had a week or so to come to a decision and was sitting in the Commons area.  I was “Slamming and Cramming,” which was basically slamming coffee and doing some last minute cramming for a final exam.  I overheard 2 students talking about their racquetball class.

Ooh!  _Racquetball._   I'd missed seeing that on the listing.  I tuned out the students' remaining conversation and pulled out my worn and tattered copy of the next semester's course listings.  Quickly flipping to the PE section---sure enough, there were 2 different classes offered.  I had to pick the late one at 6pm, which would give me an hour break at the end of my work shift.  Yuck, a PE class at 6pm.  Oh well, it would have to do.

Fortunately I come from what you would call a Racquetball Fanatic Family.  Other families did tennis or golf, ours was racquetball.  My dad had gotten really into it, when it first became popular, and for a number of years he participated in semi-pro tournaments.  Then he became a rep for one of the bigger equipment companies.  My brother did even better and started playing in tournaments when he was 15, then turned pro at 18 and continued doing it for years.  Not that that was a lucrative thing, but still...  Then he, too, took a job as a rep with the same company as my dad.

I dabbled in it, playing in junior tournaments here and there while I was in high school, but I wasn't as good as my brother or my dad, or maybe it just didn't appeal to me as much.  And I didn't really want to travel around selling sporting equipment.  So, that was my racquetball story.  At least now it would pay off, and this would be an easy "A."

The semester ended and the new one started.  I was standing in a long line at the textbook store, waiting to check out when a guy standing in the line next to me happened to see the slim, used copy of "Handbook to Racquetball" on the top of my stack of books.

"Racquetball, huh?  Too bad you have to get Coach Sanchez this semester."

"Never heard of him," I said, hoping to avoid a long, drawn out conversation about some evil-tempered asshole.  So often these types of stories had no basis in fact, were more Urban Legend than anything. The scary calculus professor who failed everyone, or the female English professor who would sleep with 1 or 2 of her male students and would let them miss every class and still give them A's.

"He came out of retirement to coach this semester.  The regular coach was in a bad accident over Christmas."

We shuffled closer to the check-stands.

"You seem to know a lot about it," I said, finding my curiosity growing.  At least, the accident story sounded interesting.  I can rubberneck along with the best of them when it comes to passing a car pile-up on the road.

"I'm a Kinesiology Major — that's Phys Ed.  Gonna be a professional trainer when I finish," he said proudly, swelling himself up, holding his stomach in and puffing his chest out.  The guy looked the type---all bulky muscle, tanned, confident.  Probably more muscle than brains, like so many jocks.  He adjusted the heavy stack of books in his arms and continued.

"We heard all about Coach Radcliff's car accident -- he almost died.  Anyway, the way I heard, this guy Sanchez was pro for long time.  Taught here for a few years, then disappeared.  That was a while back.  Not the easiest guy to get along with, is what they say.  Kind of an asshole."

 _Huh,_  I thought.  I'd never heard of anyone with the last name of Sanchez, and the Racquetball World wasn't exactly huge...   We each stood in silence after that.  I paid for my books -- Holy Crap, these damn things were expensive.  If only I would actually read them...maybe I'd have better grades.

The first day of class came and I was running late from work, of course.  Story of my life...  The course listing said that the first 3 or 4 classes would start in the classroom setting, so at least I wouldn't make myself any later by having to run into the locker room to change first.  I opened the door to the classroom and was grateful when I realized that the door was in the back of the room -- so no "walk of shame" past everyone and the professor, interrupting the lecture.

I slipped into a desk at the end of a row as quietly as possible.  The room was long and narrow and there was a tall guy sitting in front of me.  I couldn't see the front without leaning past him and halfway out in the aisle, which I sure as hell wasn't going to do -- no need to draw anymore attention to myself.

"We-urp-ell.  It l-l-looks like our star player, our _celebrity_ has finally fuckin' arrived..."   The man's voice was deep, rough.  And sounded very annoyed.  I looked around to see who'd come in behind me and realized to my horror that he meant me.

 _Oh shit.  Please don't let this class, my last semester, be like this..._   Everyone in the room was looking at me.  I felt my face burning and tried to slide down a little in my chair.

The guy in front of me had turned around sideways in his seat to look at me, giving me a clear view of the man at the front of the class.  He was tall, lean, with a shock of blue-grey hair sticking out from his head in unruly waves.  Like he didn't own a hairbrush.  Even from the back of the classroom I could see his blue eyes piercing me.  Damn!  He was fucking _sexy!_  I sucked my breath in and felt myself growing wet.

He frowned.  "N-n-nice of you to join us.  Y-y-you didn't feel the need to change?"

I looked around and realized, to my horror again, that everyone was in shorts and t-shirts and had their racquets.

"Um, sir," my voice croaked and I had to clear my throat and start again.  "The course listing said that the first few lectures would be in the classroom.  So I thought..."  I trailed off lamely.

"Th-Then you thought wrong.  Go change.  Meet us on the courts.  Everyone else, let's (urp) go."

I gathered up my things and headed for the locker room, my face still burning with embarrassment.  How was it that I'd made this mistake, that everyone else knew to be in work-out clothes?  Then I stopped in my tracks at the entrance to the locker room, my hand on the door.  I didn't  _have_ any work-out clothes with me.  I wasn't expecting to need any yet.  _Shit.  Shit, shit, shit._   Now what?

I turned around and went to the racquetball courts.  Coach Sanchez was trailing up the rear, the students having disappeared around a corner, and I caught up to him.

"Coach, I don't have anything with me.  I wasn't expecting to play today.  I'm sorry."

"Hhmmph."  He refused to look down at me, barely acknowledged that I'd said anything.  He continued walking, his long legs taking great strides and I struggled to keep up, taking two steps to his one.  We got to the wing of the building with the courts, everyone was standing around, waiting for instructions.  Coach paired everyone up and sent them off to the courts.  He turned and looked down at me.

"G-g-go wait for me up on the g-g-gallery."

Some racquetball courts are designed with the rear wall made of plexiglass, so observers can watch.  But being a classroom setting, this facility's courts were regular walled, with a viewing gallery on the second level so that the coach could look down on the various games and call out instructions.  I went up to the second level and set my things down in the corner.  I peered down onto the first court and watched two students clumsily knock the ball around.  I went from court to court and saw that this pretty much was the caliber of all the students in the class.  I ended up above court #9 and watched two guys hitting the ball wildly, laughing at themselves.  The tenth court was empty.

"This group f-f-fucking sucks."  He was standing right next to me and I nearly jumped out of my skin.  "Can't believe they talked -- talked me into this shit."  He pulled a metal flask from the hip pocket of his shorts and unscrewed the cap then took a deep pull.  His long fingers were wrapped around the flask, his other hand rested on the rail, his fingers taping it lightly.  I stared at them and wondered what they would feel like on my body...  He offered the flask to me, nudging my arm.  "Want some?"

"Uh, no thanks..."  I was pretty sure it wasn't Gatorade in that flask.  He stood uncomfortably close to me and I began to breathe quickly.  Occasionally he'd lean into me, on the pretense of craning his head down into the court below to watch a player, but he didn't immediately move away afterwards.  Soon he stayed pressed up against me.  His skin was warm and I started to feel wetness and heat bloom between my legs as the skin of his arm continued to rub against mine.  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and took a careful sideways step away from him.  I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my gaze steadfastly downward, pretending to watch the game below.

"Hhmmph," he chuckled.  "All r-r-right.  You can take off -- you can go.  Be here, be back Thursday, fucking on time and ready to -- you're gonna play for me."  He looked me up and down, smirking.

I stammered a goodbye, thanking him, then gathered my things and left.  My legs were so weak I nearly tripped down the stairs.

When I got to my car and started the engine, I had to sit there for a few minutes, waiting for the throbbing in my pussy to go away.  God, what was it about this man that made me so fucking horny?  Everything about him screamed "drunken lech" but all I could think about was him fucking me.  I wanted to reach down and rub my clit, finger fuck myself right there.  I took a quick look around the parking lot and didn't see anyone.  Coast clear.  Being winter, it was already dark out...should be safe enough.

I reached a hand down inside my pants and leaned over the steering wheel to hide myself.  Then I slowly rubbed my clit, thinking a quick orgasm would ease my tension before I drove home.  Reaching further, I pressed two fingers deep inside and began to stroke, thinking about his tall body, those elegant, long fingers...I was breathing heavy and sweating, I felt myself coming close --

A hard rapping on the driver's side window brought me back to reality and I yanked my hand out of my pants but stayed bent over the steering wheel.  Oh my God, here I was, caught masturbating in a school parking lot by the campus police.  What the fuck had I been thinking?!  I was too afraid to look up, but then the hand rapped on the window again.  I turned my head and it was Coach Sanchez.  He motioned for me to roll the window down.

"Y-you left without the -- without a copy of the syllabus."  His eyes gleamed and his smirk was positively lecherous.  He looked down at my hand where I had it down on the seat and I imagined that my fingers were dripping with my juices.  I was mortified.  I wanted to melt down into the floor boards of my car.

"L-L-Looks like you, uh, you could use some help there."

I cleared my throat, "Um, no.  I'd dropped my ID under the seat.  Was just trying to find it..."  It was such a blatant lie.  I couldn't look him in the face.

"Uh huh.  Here."  He leaned into the window and handed a copy of the syllabus in to me.  I could smell the faint odor of liquor on his breath.  "I let those fools out -- I let class out early.  Wanna get a drink?"

Now I really _was_ mortified.  My coach had caught me masturbating in the car...Surely he knew I was thinking of him, and now he was asking me out for a drink?  My mind raced.  I can't say that I wasn't tempted...There was something about him.  Duh.  _Obviously_.  But, no.  I'd already had one affair with a professor.  It ended badly.  His wife had found out about us.  Threatened to have me kicked out of school -- but this would have ended her husband's career, so fortunately she didn't say anything.  I couldn't put myself through that again.

"Thank you, Coach Sanchez, but I worked all day and I'm really tired.  I think I'll just head home."

"Tired, huh?  D-d-don't let that be your -- affect your performance in the future."  He straightened up and stepped away from the door, rapping on the roof twice with his knuckles.  "See you -- see you on Thursday."

Grateful at finally being released, I rolled up the window and backed out and drove away.  I looked in my rearview mirror.  He remained in the same spot, watching my car until I turned down the row of the parking lot.

_tbc_


	7. Coach Sanchez -- Part 2

The next two days passed way too slowly.  I was in class all day Wednesday, then worked half a day on Thursday.  I couldn't get Coach Sanchez off my mind.  I _did_ go home Tuesday night and totally wring myself out with my vibrator.  And on Wednesday night.  I had to.  I lay there in my pitiful apartment bathtub and just wanted to get him the fuck out of my head.

But my brain didn't seem to feel the same way about it, and I dreamt about him all night for two nights in a row.  Just totally blow your mind away fuck dreams that left me swollen, throbbing, wet, and needy when I woke up the next morning.  What I thought of as the dreaded quadrad of unrequited horniness.

So, like I said, the next two days passed much too slowly for me.  I needed to see him again.

Since I got out of work early on Thursday I figured I'd get to the gym before class and knock the racquetball around for awhile.  Maybe get some of the nervousness out of my system.  I warmed up by hitting serves, then shots off the back wall, off the ceiling.  It had been quite a few years since I played and I felt rusty.  I loved the sound of the ball ricocheting off the wall, the smack and bang, and the feel of the ball bouncing off my racket.  I forgot how comforting this was to me.

I used to play by myself all the time when I was in high school.  Just knock the ball around when I'd had a bad day.  The best form of stress relief I knew.  But once I was living on my own a gym membership quickly became an impractical luxury, and I hadn’t had a place to play until now.

Today, I hit and hit the ball, lost in my thoughts, thinking about how this was my last semester and what was I going to do with myself when I graduated...  I’d forgotten about what a great place this was to come and think.  I could give myself a hard workout without it feeling too hard, because I was distracted with the problem on my mind that I needed to think over.  And thinking about the problem wasn’t as stressful, because I was working out so hard....It was as if both sides of my brain were able to work in overdrive without interfering with each other.

I quickly settled back into a familiar pattern.  I loved to crouch down as low to the floor as I could, drop the ball and then just wallop it, hitting rebound after rebound as rapidly as I could until I ran out breath or the ball went out of my reach.  Then, I switched and hit it with my backhand.  Over and over until I was breathless and sweating.

I was bent over and just about to hit another backhand.  I lifted the ball up and brought my arm back slightly, wrist cocked and preparing to hit the ball on its rebounding bounce as soon as I dropped it.

"You think you (urp) might come and -- get out of there and come grace us with your presence in class?"

The voice boomed out from above and I would have dropped my racket in surprise had it not been for the tether holding it around my wrist.  As it was I jumped about a foot in the air and yelled out.  I looked up to see Coach Sanchez staring down at me from the gallery.  He had an annoying look of amusement on his face.

"W-w-wait for me."

I rounded up the ball from where it had rolled off into a corner, then left the court.  If the clock on the hallway wall was correct then I was already 15 minutes late for the class.  Talk about losing track of time...  And, I _thought_ we’d be meeting here on the courts....  

I was putting my racquet in its case when the door to the stairwell of the gallery opened and he swiftly strode through.  I stood waiting for him, watching him as he walked towards me down the long hallway.  

He walked with the casual ease of a natural athlete and I admired his long, lanky frame.  My dad is tall as well, maybe that’s why I’ve always been attracted to tall men, even though I’m pretty short.  He stopped outside one court and shut the light off, then continued on.  I guess that meant no courts today, if he was turning the lights off -- they took at least 10 minutes to come to full brightness.

Stopping beside me he looked me up and down, then abruptly reached his long arm out next to my head.  I flinched reflexively, not knowing his intentions, but he merely flicked the light switch beside my ear.  He looked down at me from his tall height, smirking.

"Y-Y-Your backhand sucks.  What have you been doing with yourself?  Playing - fucking playing tennis?  It's ruined your wrist.  You -- you swing your arm like you're out on a goddamn tennis court."

My mouth dropped open, my pride stung by his rebuke.  My backhand was my thing...  My killer stroke...

But, he was right.  I _had_ been playing tennis, last summer with my -- now ex -- boyfriend.  Damn Coach Sanchez.

Well, no.  Damn them both.  I scowled up at him.

He turned and left and I followed in his tracks, not bothering to try to keep up.

"I d-d-decided to have -- where the fuck _are_ you?"  He stopped and turned around, looking back at me.  I hustled to catch up.  He resumed walking and I struggled to match his long-legged pace.

"After Tuesday's st-stellar performance, I realized I needed to take this group back to -- back to the basics.  None of them know shit."

I walked along silently, not knowing what to say.  It _was_ Racquetball 101, after all.  Not that there was a Racquetball 102, or whatever the hell the next level course would have been called.  But what did he expect?  These people were all probably just trying to satisfy their 2 hour phys ed requirement — like me.

He looked down at me.  "Nothing?  No thoughts from the great pro?"

"Eh, well.  Yeah, they did pretty much...suck...  And I'm not a pro by any means.  That's my brother.”  We walked in silence for a few steps.

”And if you really want to help them,” I continued, “You shouldn’t just teach the class.  Get them to fall in love with the sport, so they’ll stick with it for a lifetime and not just the semester.”  I stopped talking, surprised with myself.  Maybe I’d been paying attention to my dad’s and brother’s incessant “shoptalk” conversations at family get togethers more than I realized.

We were standing outside a classroom door and he looked down at me, studying me.  I found myself blushing under his close scrutiny.  I was sweaty, and even though it was in a ponytail I knew my hair was disheveled from playing.  I hoped he wasn't thinking about the scene he came upon in my car the other night.  Then he winked at me and I knew that he'd been thinking of _exactly_ that.

"We - we can talk more, after - when class if over."  He opened the door and went in, not even gentlemanly enough to let ladies in first.

Apparently he had the group reading the first two chapters in the handbook, the rules and regulations.  I slid into a desk in the back.  Then I realized that I didn’t have my copy so I had to go up to the front and ask to borrow his.  He handed it over with that infuriating smirk.  I sat there for the next hour, trying to look like I was reading, but instead my mind was racing.  What did he want to talk about after the class?  My mind was a million miles away...

"You — you plannin' on spendin' the - stayin' here for the night?"  Once again I jumped in surprise and was shocked out of my thoughts by his deep voice.  He was standing beside my desk.  I looked around and the classroom was empty.  How had I missed everyone leaving, walking right by my desk?

"There's a door, an exit at the front of the room," he was reading my thoughts.  I looked ahead and sure enough, the room had two doors.  Well, that explained that.  At least I wasn't _completely_ oblivious.

"Come on.  Let's go hit a few."  He remained standing next to my desk, almost uncomfortably close, his crotch basically at eye level.

"I really think...I should be..."  I trailed off lamely.   _I really think we should be fucking, instead..._   ...Is what my _mind_ was thinking, and before I could stop myself my eyes strayed to his shorts.  The crotch was tight and I imagined what lay underneath the material.  I was wet and throbbing and I shifted my hips a little to get some relief.  I realized he was watching me, where my eyes had traveled, and I felt my face turning red.

The way things were going, at this point he probably thought it was my normal skin tone.

He laughed a low chuckle then made for the door.  "Come on.  A few games won't keep you out too late past your bedtime."

We were on court #10, the only one that still had its lights on.  He was killing me.  At first I thought that this would be a friendly match, testing out each other's skills.  But instead he served shot after shot into the corners, he didn't even bother to keep score.  Just kept knocking them back there, zipping each shot past me while I dove after the ball hopelessly, missing almost every time.  If I was lucky enough to return his serve, then he effortlessly hit his return shot down the far side of the court, forcing me to dash across to try and hit it before I barely managed to stop myself from slamming into the wall.  He hurled criticism and abuse at me over and over.

"Wake up!  You — are you takin’ a _nap_ back there?”

"Move your -- Goddamnit!  Move your fucking feet!”

”Quit campin' out!  Are you fuckin' pitchin' a tent, or what?"

"Christ, are you blind?!  A child could have hit - gotten to that."

”Where’s your head?  Hel- _lo?_   Are you in this court or is your mind still back in your _car_ in the parking lot?”

I couldn’t be _lieve_  he just said that, brought that up.  I redoubled my efforts but it didn’t help.

"Wh-what the fuck?  I thought you played pro..."

Finally I snapped.  I caught the ball in mid-air with a satisfyingly painful smack into my palm and I rounded on him, throwing the ball at his head.

"I told you, goddamit!  That was my fucking brother!!  I haven’t played in almost ten years, you fucking asshole!  What are you trying to prove?  That you're fucking better than me?  Of _course_ you are..."

I choked back a sob of humiliation and angrily wiped tears that had sprung up in the corners my eyes, hoping he’d think it was sweat instead.  I was drenched, my hair was plastered to my head and I was dying for water.  I was dead on my feet and sagged against the back wall, my legs shaking with fatigue.

Without a word he left the court, the door banging shut behind him, then he reappeared just as quickly, holding his flask and a hand towel.  He tossed the towel at my head, which I barely caught in time.  Leaning against the wall, I gratefully slid down to the floor, my shoes squeaking on the varnished wood.  I rested my elbows on my bent knees and hung my head down while I tried to catch my breath.  I held the towel against my face, pretending to soak up my sweat when in reality I was embarrassed that I had almost been about to cry.

He came and stood over me for a few moments.  From underneath the towel I could see his huge tennis shoes next to me but I refused to acknowledge him.  I sensed him reaching down, then felt the cool metal of the flask against my arm.

"Dr-drink that."

Without hesitation I took it and tipped it against my lips.  I knocked back half of it in three great swallows.  It could have been poison and I wouldn't have cared, I was that fucking thirsty.

It was shitty vodka and I choked, gasping at the burning sensation in my throat.  Any thoughts of crying were instantly wiped away by the now more immediate need to breathe.  When I finally stopped coughing he reached down and grasped hold of my arms with his two large hands and pulled me into a standing position.

“Let’s go get that drink.  I want to talk to you.  You - you think you can be showered and changed in fifteen minutes — not take a fucking hour?”

My head bobbled yes without my consent. 

Back in the ladies’ locker room, I drank about a gallon of water from the water fountain then went and got my gym bag out of the locker.  I unzipped it, then stared stupidly down inside, wondering what was missing from this picture.  Of course— of all things, of _course_ I didn’t have any _shower_ things with me.  I had planned on going straight home.  God, the man was going to think I was a total fuck-up.

I collected my crap and went across the main hallway and into the men’s locker room.  The world was starting to spin a little bit, and it dawned on me that I’d just drunk three huge swallows of pure vodka on an empty stomach, and while extremely dehydrated.  I think the alcohol bypassed my liver and went straight to my fucking head.  

I opened the inner door and barely poked my head in.

”Um...Hey...Coach Sanchez...?”  Dropping my gym bag, I closed my eyes against the tilt-a-whirl that now dominated my vision and leaned my hot face against the comforting cool of the metal door frame.

”Yeah...?”

He appeared in, like, 30 seconds.  He must have popped up straight through the floor.  His hair was sticking out in all directions, like he’d just roughly toweled it dry, and he was still dripping from the shower.  He was only wearing one of the small, cheap gym towels, which he'd hastily wrapped low around his slim hips.  He had the sexiest damn v-cut I’d ever seen, and it pointed straight to ground zero: a thick patch of dark grey-blue pubic hair riding above that huge bulge which was barely covered by the towel.

Such a small amount of material between me...and...and _that.._.

I took a step forward and tried to stand more upright, my mind now full of pure, drunken lust.  I didn’t realize that I’d been standing there staring down at him for an excessively long time until he cleared his throat and snapped me back to reality.

I dragged my eyes away from his crotch and turned my attention up to his face.  He was smirking so knowingly that I immediately blushed red-hot.  Like, burst into flames, then disappear into the floor with embarrassment, hot.  Then, as quick as the next set of waves crashing onto a seashore, my embarrassment was driven away by the thoughts and dreams that had been plaguing me for the last two days straight.

”Can I help you?”  Now he was positively grinning at me.

I struggled to refocus my drunken brain on why I’d come in there in the first place....Oh, yeah...

”Oh, uh....you know, Coach, I don’t have any, uh, soap or shower things with me, so I figured I’d just...head on home...”  I closed my eyes and hiccuped, swaying a little bit, my body seeking the stability of the door frame.  He reached out and grabbed me before I fell, hauling me all the way inside the locker room.

”Whoa, there.  You’re not going any — driving anywhere like that.”  He pulled me to his side and held me upright with one arm draped around my shoulders.  “Wh—what’s the p-problem?  Can’t hold — can’t you hold your liquor?”  He was looking down at me with that smirk and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

I sagged into him and giggled.  “Nope!”  I was now acting with that special kind of sexual boldness that only excessive alcohol intake can give a person.  I wrapped my arm around his side and tucked my thumb into the “waistband” of his towel, using it as a handhold, and curling my fingers around his waist.

”Jesus...!”  He immediately covered my hand with his, slapping down on it and gripping it, holding the towel in place before I accidentally ripped it off.

I sighed and snuggled into him.  He smelled good, nice and showery clean.  And of one of those manly soaps, like Irish Spring.

”You know, Coach, we’ve finally had that drink together you’ve been wanting...”

”Y-Y-Yeah, but you haven’t — you still need to shower.”  He was now walking me past rows of lockers until we reached the shower room in the back.  I had expected it to be one huge open area, like what they showed in movies, but instead they were individually curtained stalls, just like the ladies’.  He parked me on the bench of one, settling me so I was leaning back against the corner and wouldn’t fall out.  Then he left.

”Where are you going?” I called out.  My voice had a pouty sound to it.

”To get you some damn— to get you soap.”  His deep voice echoed back to me.  “Isn’t that what you said you needed?”

”Oh...yeah...”  I started giggling.

I kicked my tennis shoes off and peeled off my socks.  I was so drunk I was now operating almost entirely on autopilot.  I stood up and leaned into the inner shower stall and turned on the water so it would heat up, then I pulled off my t-shirt and bra, dropping them to the floor.  I was stepping out of my shorts and panties when he reappeared.  He stopped abruptly when he saw me nude, the bottle of shower gel in his hand.  His eyes raked me up and down and he licked his lips.  I stopped giggling for a split second, then made an unladylike snort and started laughing.

”The look on your face...”  I tried to stop laughing, but alcohol always makes me a silly drunk and the best I could manage was the semi-restrained giggling again.  I bent down to pick my clothes up off the floor, and on my slow return trip back up my eyes traveled along his legs to his crotch.  He was getting a huge boner and I dropped my clothes on the bench and stepped towards him, suddenly serious.

“I _want_ that...” speaking quietly, almost to myself... I reached out to touch him and gently palmed him over the rough towel.

He hesitated for a nanosecond before taking me by the arms and pulling me into him, kissing me hard.  His lips devoured my mouth and hungrily I kissed him back, running my hands through his damp-dry hair.  We fought for control using our tongues as weapons, and I realized pretty quickly that I was outmatched.  The man definitely knew how to kiss.  I sighed and let him take over.  He ravaged my mouth until my lips felt swollen, then he kissed and nibbled his way along my jaw.

He growled into my ear, ”I want you...want to _fuck_ you hard...”  His breath and words sent shivers down my body.

”Ok...”  No argument from me!

He chuckled and reached down and picked me up, cupping my ass in his large palms.  I wrapped my legs around his waist, trapping his huge cock between us.  Somewhere along the way that skimpy towel had fallen to the floor.  He walked the few steps into the shower and the hot water rained down on us.  He slid one hand forward along my ass until his long fingers were against my pussy, then he swiped between my folds.

”Jesus Christ, you’re so hot and wet, babe...”  He gently stroked his fingers up and down, rubbing my clit.  I whined into his mouth, wanting more.  He braced my back against the wall, then, tilting his hips, he thrust up deep inside me with one groaning push while holding my hips to simultaneously pull me down on top of him.

My eyes jolted open.  He was so huge, my walls stretched painfully against his sudden intrusion and I sucked in a deep gulp of air before crying out in pain and shock.  My legs involuntarily loosened from around his waist as I struggled to relax around him.  The fogginess from the alcohol was now almost completely cleared out of my brain, driven away by the pain of his penetration.  The phrase ‘Be careful what you wish for’ echoed around in my head, mocking me, and I was almost having second thoughts about this.  

”Sshh...baby...”  Holding me tighter in his arms he kissed me and whispered softly into my ear, remaining still while I adjusted to his size.  “Oh God, you’re so tight, baby.  So hot and wet...”  His lips trailed down my throat and he bit and suckled my skin.

“Just relax for me, baby...I’ll make this good for you...”  He brought his mouth back to mine and kissed me, warm and soft, over and over, his lips enveloping mine.

I shuddered against him, sighing, and began to relax.  Slowly he began to shift his hips upwards, just barely easing himself back and forth inside me.  Moaning, I squeezed around him and he groaned in response.

”Oh, baby, that feels so good when your cunt squeezes me like that.  You like this?  You like this huge dick inside you?”  He began gently bouncing me up and down on him, then gradually began driving deeper and harder with his hips, grunting with each thrust.  I wrapped my arms tight around his neck as a delicious heat began building deep inside of me.

”Yes!  Fuck me, fuck me  _hard!_  I want you so bad...”  I buried my face against his neck and hung on for dear life while he pounded up into me.  Soon was I crying out with each bouncing thrust, whining and panting.

”Fucking _cum_ on me, baby.  Cum on my hot cock!”

Each word was punctuated by a deep thrust.  No one had ever spoken to me like this during sex before.  This was _fucking_ , like I’d always wanted and had never gotten.  I felt my orgasm building and I rocked my hips and ground my pussy down on him, seeking release.  My muscles tensed and I arched my spine, throwing my head back.  Suddenly I came, gushing around his cock in a huge flood as my walls spasmed around him.  He wrung my orgasm out of me, thrusting deep inside me without stopping, and my sobs and wails of pleasure echoed off the tiled walls.

His strokes became choppy and his breathing was coming in harsh cries against my neck.  Then with a hoarse cry and a shouted curse his fingers dug into my skin as he came high inside me and I felt his hot cum filling me up.  We stayed there like that, his cock still inside me and his hands cupping my ass, holding me against the wall until our breathing slowed.  Finally he lifted his forehead from the side of my neck and kissed me, grinning.

”Bet you’ve never fucked in a men’s locker room before.”

I laughed.  “I’ve never been _fucked_  like that before...”

He laughed and kissed me again, this time a lingering kiss, one with the sweet promise of more to come.  Then he set me down.  I felt his cum slipping down my thighs and cringed inwardly.

”Uh, Coach, I still haven’t gotten to take my shower...”  I hoped he would give me that shower gel and leave me for a few moments of privacy, but he had second thoughts.  He bent down to pick up the bottle where he’d hastily dropped it — Irish Spring, by the way —  then squirted some into his large palm.

”I think it’s time you started calling me Rick.”  He winked at me and lathered the soap up between his hands before running them up and down my body.  

He was stroking gently between my legs and kissing me deeply when it dawned on me at how nice it was that locker rooms had such huge supplies of hot water... 

_tbc...?_

 

 


	8. Coach Sanchez — Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I were to summarize this chapter it would be: Go listen to that song, “Lay down, Sally” by Eric Clapton...

We eventually left the gym after playing around in the shower together for a little bit longer.  No fucking, just kissing and fondling.  I was melting in his arms and eager for more, but he said we needed to leave before the cleaning staff came.

He insisted on driving, said my car would be ok for the night.  He did let me move it so that it was closer to the entrance of the building and well-lit by the parking lot lights.  He laughed while I struggled to haul myself up into the passenger seat of his high SUV, then we drove off.

We hit a fast food restaurant drive-thru and he ordered without asking me what I wanted, probably because I was slumped in the seat, drifting into that stage of torpor of one who’s ingested too much alcohol in a short amount of time.  When he dropped the bags into my lap the smell of fried potatoes brought me out of my stupor and I immediately began shoving French fries in my mouth.  Rick laughed under his breath.

I gave him a “quit laughing at me” look, but did slow down my pace.  There’s something about French fries and having had too much alcohol — somehow your drunken brain knows that this is some kind of cure, or at least a band-aid, that will help soak up the remaining alcohol in your stomach and keep you from descending into an out and out coma.

Rick reached down into one of the bags and pulled out a burger.  He started to unwrap it, holding his elbows on the steering wheel, but I snatched it from him before we ended up in a ditch.  I unwrapped half of it, folding the wrapping back so it would catch any drippings, and handed it back to him with some napkins.  He wolfed it down and balled up the paper and popped it into the bag.  I ate mine at a slightly slower, more lady-like pace, but still finished it pretty quickly.  Lunch had been a very long time ago.

We continued to eat the fries in silence as he drove us into an older neighborhood close to the University that was all small- and medium-sized Craftsman bungalow-style houses.  I knew that a lot of faculty lived here.  His was a one-story with a small front yard.  He parked his Explorer in the garage and we went in the backdoor, I could hear a dog barking inside.  A small, brown lab-mix was waiting for us and rushed Rick as soon as he went in.  The dog was panting and barked at Rick, waving it’s tail and looking up at him adoringly for attention.  Rick leaned down and gave him a rough, affectionate rub.

”Hey, Morty, you — you ready to go out?”  He let the dog out into the backyard, then shut the door.  He turned to me and handed me the fast food bags.

”Take these into the den, babe.”  He took my gym bag, which I had slung over my shoulder, and disappeared into the back of the house.

I wandered into the den and sat down on the sofa, setting the bags down on the coffee table.  There really wasn’t much food  left—we’d devoured most of the fries like a pair of vultures at a fresh roadkill.  A ginger tabby cat was curled up on the back of the couch, sleeping.  I was kind of sobering up and beginning to wonder what I was doing there and what would happen next, when Rick reappeared.  He carried two open bottles of beer by their necks in one hand and a large glass of water.  He set the beers down then handed the glass to me, plus two pills that were curled into his fingers inside his palm.

“Take these.  You — you’ll be glad — you’ll thank me in the morning.”

I looked at the pills and eyed them with some suspicion—there’d been talk in the news about girls getting drugged up at bars.  Guys would drop something into their drink when they weren’t looking, then take them home and rape them.  But Rick and I had _already_ screwed around...

”Wh-what?  You -- you think I’m gonna _roofy_ you?  Kind of too late for that — you already did it _for_ me.”

He had a point.  I popped the pills and swallowed them with about half the glass of water.

”Move it, Sum-Sum.”  He nudged the cat until it jumped off the couch with an offended meow and stalked off.  “Bitch cat...” he muttered.  

He sat down next me.  He leaned forward and picked up a beer, then sat back and put his arm around my shoulders with a comfortable familiarity.  It felt right, and I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest and closing my eyes.  I didn’t know how I knew, but everything about this just felt... _right..._

So often in the past I’d gotten myself into similar situations, drinking too much alcohol with a guy I barely knew.  Then the robot from that dumb 60s sci-fi TV show would pop up in my head:

“Danger, Will Robinson!   _Danger!!”_  

And that’s when I knew I had to get the fuck out of there, fast.  Fortunately that robot always appeared in my head just in time, would snap me out of my drunken, lustful state so that I could extricate myself from a bad situation.

But not this time.  No robots, no warnings in my head.  Just...a feeling of safe, easy...comfortableness...  I sighed and relaxed against him.  The alcohol was starting to kick in again, and I felt myself growing sleepy, enjoying the feeling of his arm around me, the warmth of his chest through his shirt and against my face.  I gave in to it.  All of it.

I heard the tv turn on to a local evening news program, then he turned the volume down low and let the remote drop onto the couch beside me before he put his hand around my arm again.  He began caressing my arm lightly with his fingers, playing up and down.  We sat there quietly for a bit, and my mind drifted off.

He leaned forward slightly and I heard him place his empty beer on the table and pick up the other one before he sat back again.  His hand resumed its slow caressing on my arm.

“Hey...”  He said softly, squeezing my arm lightly.  “You fallin’ asleep on me?”

“Mm—mmm.  I’m just...restin’ my eyelids...”  I sighed and turned my body more towards him and snuggled my head deeper against his chest.  Then I wrapped my arm around his stomach and snaked the other behind his back, clasping my hands together around his waist.

He chuckled, a low rumble that reverberated in his chest and against my ear.  He brought his hand up and lightly palmed my head, and I felt his lips as he softly kissed my hair.  Then he began lazily running his fingers up and down my back, lightly dragging his nails on the downward stroke, then slowly pulling the pads of his fingers with more pressure on the upstroke.

This was an unexpected side of him that I wouldn’t have thought existed.  Not after he’d been such an asshole to me from the moment I met him.  My sleepy brain decided to set this conundrum on the back burner of my subconscious to deal with later.  He drank his beer quietly and watched tv while I dozed against his chest, my mind hung somewhere in that half-wakeful state between a light sleep and a drunken fog.  The next thing I knew he was tapping me lightly on my head.

”Hey...sleepy head.  Time for bed.”  He stood up, pulling me to a standing position.  My eyes refused to remain open for longer than just a few second stretches and he led me by the hand down a hall to his bedroom.  I peered at the digital clock on his bedside table and was surprised that only 30 minutes had passed since we’d arrived at his house.  Time enough for him to watch the news and drink those beers.  Sleepily I pulled off all my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, then I climbed up on his bed and crawled under the covers, heedless of his reaction.

”Jesus..." He laughed.  " _You’re_  a cheap, no frills date.”  He stripped naked and slid under the covers next to me.  “You don’t snore, do you, babe?”  He pulled me into his arms so that my back was flush against his chest.

”Don’t think so.  Next time, don’t get me so drunk so fast,” I mumbled into the pillow.  “I can be...lotta fun...I _think...”_

Chuckling, he pulled the covers over us, then tucked my head under his chin and wrapped his arms tight around me.

”I’ll let you know in the morning.”

”Mmm’k.”  I was past talking.  The last thing I remember was feeling him plant another kiss on my head, then I fell asleep.

*****

I woke up the next morning and realized with some panic that I was naked and in a strange bed.  I lifted my head up and carefully got up on one elbow and peered around the room in the predawn light, trying to place where I was, remember how I got there, and, most importantly, with _whom_...  A large hand gently pulled me back down against the warm body behind me...and then I remembered.

Holy _crap_ , I'd slept with the racquetball coach!

I lay next to him in the bed, stiff with fear and uncertainty.  His hand caressed my breasts and my nipples tightened.

Traitorous bitches.  

"What's the matter, baby girl?"  He murmured into my hair, his voice gruff and low.

"I...have an early class..."  My mind was racing with how to get myself out of this situation.

"No...No, you don't,” he mumbled.  “I saw -- read your course list for the semester.  No classes today.  Just stay here."  He sounded like he was still half asleep and talking with his eyes closed.

Fuck.  It's not that I _wanted_ to leave... I just didn't know how to handle this.  What was my next move supposed to be?  Was this going to be a quick fling for him?  I didn't know if I could deal with that -- regardless if I was going to have him as my coach for the rest of the semester.  I just wasn't ready for yet another drunken one night stand.  My mind was racing, worrying.

He grunted in amusement.  "The sober light of dawn.  Literally...  Baby girl, quit thinkin’ ‘bout it...”

It was like he was reading my thoughts!

He wrapped both arms around me and pulled me close to him, sighing deeply.  Like he wanted to go back to sleep.

”Come on, honey.  It’s early.  Let’s just...go back t'sleep...”  He began caressing my hip, lightly running his fingers across my skin.

It felt nice — non-threatening, soothing.  And that robot still hadn’t made an appearance inside my head...

Sighing, I closed my eyes and settled against him, enjoying the feeling of his fingers.

His hand continued its slow play on my hip.  Gradually the circle of his caress widened.  Down my abdomen, then back up — just under my breasts, then across and going down again, skirting along the of edge of my pubic hair.  Going everywhere and yet nowhere.  I lay there with my eyes closed, wondering if the next pass of his fingers was going to take him...No, not yet.  

I felt myself growing damp with excitement.  I didn’t notice that I was breathing quicker, or that my feet were sliding against each other a little and that my thighs were rubbing together just slightly.

Soon his fingers were ghosting over my nipples and they tightened into stiff peaks.  I held my breath, hoping he would...  I sighed with disappointment.  He didn’t.  Then I held my breath again as he reached lower on the next downward pass.  This time his hand was over my pubic hair, his fingertips oh, so close to my clit — I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.  My hips tilted forward of their own volition, seeking his touch.  He hovered there momentarily, his thumb lightly stroking my skin at the edge of my pubic hair, then he continued along my stomach.  

I sighed with disappointment again, this time a little more audibly.  My butt rubbed back and forth against him as it settled back in place.  I didn’t realize how obvious I was being.  I thought my movements were subtle, small.  Hardly noticeable.

He kissed my shoulder.  His lips were soft, warm.  His breath on my skin sent goose bumps out over my body and I shivered.  This was nice!  Pounding and fucking were one thing, but this...this gradual, teasing build up...  There was something to be said for this!  I lay there in his arms, enjoying the sensations, the feel of his hand on my skin, the anticipation of what he would do next...

On his trip back up to my breasts he slid his whole palm around one breast, trapping the nipple between two fingers.  He cupped my breast in his large, warm hand and lightly pinched the nipple.  I moaned a little and shifted my body against his.  He pinched and rolled my nipple — not painfully.  Just to stimulate.  Then, too soon, he was moving on.

He reached down and stroked my upper thighs and without realizing I was doing it I opened my legs slightly, tilting my hips forward again, like an offering.  Which he ignored and returned his attention to my boring stomach.

Oh, God...  I thought I was going to explode with the sensations that were building up inside of me!  The eager anticipation of what he would do next.  He kept his hand on my stomach, tracing his fingers back and forth, holding his huge palm against my skin.  It was warm and strong, and I wanted his palm pressing against my clit, those fingers reaching into my pussy instead.  I sighed with frustration and rubbed my ass against him.  His cock was hot and huge and pressing up against me.

”Lift your leg, babe...”  He helped me raise my leg, pulling it back so that it was draped across his legs.  Then finally, _finally_ , he reached between my legs and slowly began to play.  I jerked involuntarily when his fingers touched my clit.  I didn’t realize how swollen and sensitive it had become, and I made a soft noise, like a whine.  I bumped and ground into his hand, wanting more.

”Ssshhhhh.. _._ "   His voice was soothing and low.  "I’m gonna make you feel good, baby girl, yeah?  Take my time for you, make you wet and ready...”  Then his warm lips were on the back of my neck and shoulders, kissing and sucking, his tongue stroking against my skin.  

I thought I _was_ ready for him, I _knew_ I was.  I was throbbing with the need to have him inside me.  But he continued slowly stroking my clit with his fingers, circling, pressing.  I bumped and ground against his hand shamelessly, I couldn’t help it.  I was moaning and keening, over and over.  I wanted so badly for him to just fuck the shit out of me, quit fucking around, no pun intended...

Then he reached inside me with his thumb and pressed up against my walls, stroking, pressing forwards, trapping my clit in between and rubbing it hard with his fingers.  Suddenly a white lightening bolt of pleasure shot through me and I cried out as I came.  He gently pushed his fingers inside me and I felt hot spurts of liquid gush around his fingers as he stroked in and out.  My orgasm slowly rolled through me and I moaned and ground down into his hand.

”Oh, please...please.  I want you inside me...”  I realized I was begging but didn’t care.  None of my other partners had made me feel this way, made me cum so hard with just their fingers...To be honest, no one had ever really tried...

”Say my name...”  His voice was low in my ear.

”What...?”  My brain was foggy with the afterglow of the orgasm and addled by my lust.

”Say my name... _say_  it...” 

”Ri-Rick... _Rick_!  Fuck me, _please_ , Rick!”  I bumped against his hand and ground my ass against his cock.

He lifted my leg and pushed his hips forward.  I felt the soft, velvety head of his hot cock seeking my entrance and I reached down and guided him inside.  He thrust deep and hard and I cried out with a mix of pain and pleasure.  He was so huge, and I wanted to take all of him at once.  I ground down hard against him, squeezing my walls around him.

He grunted and grabbed hold of my hips, holding me still.  He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, sending more shivers down my spine.  ”Take it easy — go slow, babe.  Let’s make this a marathon, not a sprint...”

l laughed, feeling like the tables had been reversed.  Usually I was the one who wanted my partner to slow down, because I wasn’t ready yet, while they immediately started pounding into my like a horny rabbit, eager to breed.  Maybe this is why some woman liked dating older men...

He kissed the back of my neck and started to slowly stroke in and out of me.  Holy God, it felt so good!  His cock dragged across my g spot.  Just like a heat-seeking missile, it knew right where to go.  I knew he wanted me to go slowly but I couldn’t help it.  I groaned and ground myself down into him with each inward push, then I’d squeeze my walls tight around him as he pulled back out.

”Christ, you’ve got a sweet, tight, pussy.   _Fuck...”_  I could tell he was struggling to keep a slow pace.  “Touch yourself, baby girl.  I wanna feel you cum on me...”

I wasn’t all that comfortable with touching myself while having sex with a guy, and I hesitated, literally growing still.

”It’s okay, baby.  There’s nothing wrong with it...”  He reached forward and slowly stroked my clit while he continued to move in and out of me, and I gasped at having the two sensations at once.  I squeezed down on him as hard as I could, reveling in the way his cock felt as it passed back and forth over that tight bundle of nerves while at the same time having my clit rubbed...Soon I was babbling with the need for more.

”Oh, God, Rick...You feel so...This just...It feels so good, don’t stop... _Please_...”  I ground down into his hand and rubbed against him.

”That’s it baby girl...Cum for me, yeah?  Cum on my cock.  I wanna feel you squeeze me tight.”

At those words I cried out.  The next thing I knew I felt like I was tumbling, falling off a cliff.  Lost in a free-fall of pleasure as my orgasm spread through every nerve ending in my body.  My walls spasmed around him over and over, sending more waves coursing through me.  My body shuddered and I gasped and whined, calling his name.  He’d taken his hand away from my clit and held onto my hip while he stroked me through my orgasm, making it go on and on.  No one had ever made me cum so hard and for so long before.

And yet he still hadn’t cum, himself.

”Good girl...” He kissed the back of my neck and held me close while my body continued to tremble with the aftershocks of my orgasm.  Then he took my hips, lifting me.

”Get up, baby.  On your knees for me...”

Still feeling weak and breathless, I got on my hands and knees, opening my legs.  He moved behind me, then gently pushed my shoulders down until I was resting in my elbows with my ass high in the air.

”God, you’ve got a sweet, round ass...”  He slapped one cheek lightly and I jumped, moaning.  He chuckled and softly rubbed the slap spot.  He stroked my cheeks, then slapped me again, a little harder.  I moaned and pushed against him.  

He chuckled.  “You like that, huh, baby girl?  We’ll save that for later...For now I just wanna fuck you...”

With one knee he spread my legs wider, then he reached forward and brushed my clit.  I moaned in anticipation and opened myself for him.  

"Christ, you're practically dripping for me, aren't you, baby girl?"  He pushed his cock against me and before I could even think about helping him he thrust deep inside me with a loud groan of pleasure.

”Jesus, you’re so hot and slick...”  Slowly he began to move in and out, opening me up.  But soon he picked up the pace, grunting as he held onto my hips, pulling me against him as he pounded into me, snapping his hips hard against my ass and driving deep enough to hit my cervix.  I cried out with each thrust as I felt myself building back up to another orgasm.  His fingers gripped my hips so hard, I knew I’d have bruises.

”Fuck, baby.  You’re so tight...  Aw, fuck, you feel so fucking good!  Jesus _Christ...”_   His words trailed off as he grunted with each thrust.  

I bucked my hips against him, trying to keep up with his relentless pace.  But I couldn’t keep up with him and so I just dropped my head down to the pillow and gave in to the pleasurable sensations.  Soon I was moaning and sobbing uncontrollably with each thrust and crying out his name.  I couldn’t help the wailing sounds that were coming from my mouth.  They were almost animalistic in quality.  I was too lost in the buildup of another orgasm to care.

Rick groaned as he pounded into me, praising me and telling me how great I felt and how hard he was going to make us both cum.  I started spilling over into another orgasm and I cried out his name in a long keening wail as it washed over me.

”Oh, Christ, baby...Here I cum...  Fuck!  Fuckin’ _fuck!!”_   He thrust deep inside me, hard enough to hurt, holding his hips against me, his whole body shaking.  I felt his cock throb as he sent hot spurts of cum high inside me.  He stroked in and out, riding out his orgasm.  Then he pulled out of me and I moaned at the loss of fullness.  I slumped down to the bed, feeling like my bones had left my body.  He lay down beside me and pulled the covers over us, then he wrapped me in his arms and pulled me against his chest. 

“Ok, baby girl...”  He said somewhat raggedly.  ”Now...now we can — let’s go back t' sleep.  ‘K?”  

I sighed with deep contentment and drifted off to sleep in his arms.

 

_tbc_

 

 

 

 


	10. The Citadel: City of Rickventures!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The following contains groans, bruises, and troubling words."
> 
> This is my new "explicit" content warning -- I just saw it at the start of a movie on IFC. Thank you!

Now, I know that all y'all have been to The Citadel before, but not me.

Today was THE day, after so many months of me whining and pleading, bitching and moaning.  My Rick was _finally_ taking me to The Citadel.  Ever since he first told me about it, my mind had played with all sorts of ideas of what it must be like to walk those streets, surrounded by people who all looked alike.  What was it _like_ for him, I'd asked on more than one occasion.  What would it be like for _me,_ I'd wondered to myself...  I thought he was the hottest thing on 2 legs, hands down, so...

Honestly, I didn't know if I would be totally fucking turned on, or kind of bored by them all -- I highly doubted this last option, but something I must have said early on had made him rethink the whole idea.

He'd grumbled about it so much, immediately regretting his initial hasty agreement to think about it, back when I'd first asked.  Ever since then he'd done everything he could to try to dissuade me, make me change my mind.  He brought up Mortytown so much that now whenever he did just I rolled my eyes in boredom -- the last time he did I had asked him if he was afraid of a bunch of homeless Mortys, and that had pissed him _right_ the fuck off...

He was even meaner than usual to his own Morty for awhile after that.  Poor kid didn't know what he did wrong.  I almost felt sorry for him.

Finally, we were on our way there.

"...Fucking sick of hearing your shit, you whining on and on about this..."  He was grumbling in between sips from his flask as we rode along in his space car.

I ignored him and eagerly watched the stars and planets fly by.  Occasionally I'd look down at the screen on his digital map, tracking our course across the galaxy.  We'd been travelling for several hours and it still seemed hopelessly far away.  I'd asked him why we didn't just portal there.

"N-n-need to bring some shit back with us," was his cryptic reply.

I sat in the seat, practically twitching with anticipation.

"And don't you -- don't you fucking go wandering off, either.  L-L-Like you did on Pothulon III.  They were ready to throw your ass in prison for trespassing."  He gestured angrily with his flask, annoyed at the memory.

I had to admit, that wasn't one of my finer moments on our list of adventures.  Apparently trespassing on that planet is an offense punishable by life in jail.  Rick had had to do some pretty fast talking to get me out of it.  They'd scanned my DNA before I left, and now I can't ever go back -- or to Pothulon IV, either.  I'm blocked, or something.  I wouldn't even be able to step through a portal without getting immediately destroyed in an explosion of dust, imploding from the inside out by whatever device they have programmed into my genetic makeup.  At least that's how Rick explained it.

Seemed a little extreme to me, for accidentally walking on the wrong side of the street on the wrong day of the month.  It's not how _I_ would treat visitors, I'd said.  Cripes, even here in the winter, if you parked on the wrong side of the road on snowplow days all they did was give you a ticket....

He'd growled at me to _shut-the-fuck-up_ and shoved me into the portal window he'd just opened, right in the middle of the court room, then immediately followed behind me.

So, now at last, he was taking me to The Citadel.  I'd owe him _so_ many blow jobs after this, he'd promised me on more than one occasion, that my jaws would ache when I'd finally "paid" off all my debt.

I wanted to tell him that my jaws _already_ ached every time after I gave him a blow job, but I knew he wouldn't care.  It would probably stroke his hyper-inflated ego instead.  He loved hearing how big he was.  Is.

Oh, _y’all_  know what I mean....

I shifted a little in my seat, thinking about his huge cock and feeling my pussy get swollen and damp.  His eyes glanced sideways in my direction.

"Watchya...watchya got goin' on over there, huh, baby girl?"  He always immediately knew whenever I was horny.  I swear I think he could smell it or something.

"Nothing..."  I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of always knowing.  Let me _try_ to do some seducing on my own, for once...keep _some_ mystery left in it. 

He reached out with his long arm and caressed my thigh.  His hand was warm and it sent tingles straight up inside me.  I squirmed a little bit.

"Come -- come on over here, baby.  Why don't you let me -- let Daddy help you out with that little problem you have there..."  His voice had dropped to that seductive purr I loved, and I closed my eyes and moaned, rubbing my thighs together.

He slid his fingers higher up under my skirt, the tips ghosting along my panties -- which were soaking wet, of course.

"Mmmm...you -- you're _wet_ , baby..."  He stroked me up and down and I closed my eyes and moaned louder, spreading my legs further apart for him.  I heard the sound of his belt and pants being undone and looked over at him.  He was using his knee to hold the steering wheel in place while freeing himself from the confines of his pants with the other.  His cock was huge and red, and he started stroking himself slowly, his fingers running up over the plush head.  A huge bead of precum had formed and I licked my lips while I watched him.  I wanted lean down and take that huge dick in my mouth and suck him dry.

"Come on, baby.  Come on over here.  I've unleashed the beast, why don't you come on and give it a ride, huh, baby?  Daddy'll make you feel real good..."

I lifted up and started to swing myself around across the seat, intending to straddle him so that I would face him, but he stopped me.

"No, sit on me so I can fuck you from behind..."  He reached out with both hands and effortlessly carried me the rest of the way over.  I splayed my legs on either side of his, hanging onto the steering wheel to hold myself up.  I felt him lift my skirt and pull my panties down to my thighs, then his hands were on my hips and lowering me down onto him.  I reached in front to help guide him inside and he lifted his hips and slowly pushed in while simultaneously gripping my hips and pulling me down on top of him.  I gasped -- he always hurt me at first, if I hadn't cum beforehand.

"Ssshhh, ssshh...baby..." His lips were against my left ear, making my skin tingle.  Gently he pulled me back until I was laying against his chest, then he cupped a large palm to my head and tipped it back until it rested on his shoulder.  He kissed my face then put his hand back on the steering wheel.  With his other hand he reached around my front underneath my skirt and started to play beneath the material, slowly rubbing my clit in circles.  I moaned and shifted, grinding down on him a little.

He kissed my cheek again and whispered, "Mmmm...Is that -- is that better, baby?  Is Daddy making you feel good inside?"

"Oh, yeah, Daddy....Baby feels soooo good..."  I slowly ground myself down on him, rolling my hips backwards and forwards.  He continued to slowly stroke my clit, now with more pressure.

"Tell me, baby, tell me what Daddy's doin' for you, hmmm?"  He loved for me to tell him how great I felt when we made love, how good he was to me.  And he was.

He was hands down the best lover I'd ever had.  He could be such a total asshole at other times, but when it comes to sex, he always made sure I felt good, took care of me first.

"Oh, Daddy...you're making me feel so warm inside.  Your cock is so full, it's just filling me up.  I wanna squeeze you hard and make you cum inside me..." 

I started clinching my walls around him, but as usual it was starting to make me get worked up faster than him.  He was always better at holding himself back, could make himself last longer for both of us.

"I can feel you...feel your cunt, baby...Are you close, baby?  Are you gonna cum for me?"

He started rubbing his fingers across my clit, working it with more pressure, harder and faster.  I cried out as my hips jerked against him and I felt fresh wetness between my thighs.  I started lifting myself up then grinding down on him, hard, tilting my hips back against him so that his cock stroked across that bundle of nerves high inside me.  Soon I was panting and whining, on the verge of orgasm.

I cried out, "Oh, RICK!  Don't stop!  I'm so close...SO CLOSE!!!"

He continued to stroke my clit fast and hard, and I came, crying out his name and shuddering, my juices flooding out of me and coating his cock.  I collapsed back against him, sweaty and panting.  He kissed my neck and whispered into my ear, praising me, telling me how hard I came and how great it felt when I came on him like that.

Then he gripped me around the hips with both hands, his fingers digging bruises into my skin.  I hitched my breath, knowing what would come next.  He tensed underneath me briefly, then began pounding hard up inside me while simultaneously pulling me down onto his lap.  Slamming us together over and over, making me cum on him again, squealing and sobbing.  Then he came with a hoarse cry, thrusting high inside me one final time, holding my hips in place while his cocked throbbed and poured cum in hot spurts.

I was still coming down, gasping and panting, my body straddling his, when he grunted and shifted underneath me and slipped out.  A thick gush of cum followed and got onto my skirt and I moaned.

"What a mess!  I can't go walking around The Citadel like this..."  I lifted myself off of him and quickly pulled my panties back up, trying to catch the rest.  I got myself back over to my seat and sat down carefully, feeling myself squish a little bit.

He laughed at me while he tucked himself back in.  His pants were a wet mess, too.

"Yeah, we're kind of -- we kind of got ourselves steered off course there.  We should probably stop for the night, anyway, babe.  I'm not done with you yet.  I know a place -- there's an asteroid with a motel close to here.  You don't need -- they don't require reservations.  You can even stay longer than an hour -- all night, if you want."

He caught my worried look and winked at me.

"D-D-Don't look at me like that.  It's nice, baby.  I promise."

_tbc_

 

 


End file.
